Mugged
by BertyBarbariusFishiez
Summary: Harry goes out to buy food. Harry gets mugged.
1. Chapter 1

AN- Tried writing a bleach fanfic. Put it off by writing this. Sorry, I'm in a weird mood. What do I blame? The skittle I found on the floor at school and ate. Why did I eat it? BTW- I try to make things seem serious, but they never do. At least it might make trying to descipher what I mean a little bit more intresting?

I think this will be about 2 chapters long. Yeah. I'm really tired.

Rated T for language and maybe references. Not sure. And mugging. Don't like, Don't read.

I spent some time in the toilet- I'd made a rather large dollop and an equally large smell. Even I, the great creator, had to admit that it smelt. I tried to spray some air freshener. That failed.

Eventually I found myself sneaking out the loo, I could pin the blame on Remus, who had just left. Oh how I laughed at my cynical cruelty and cynicallness. My footsteps slapped loudly and gave me away, me thinks. I was mortified. Sirius would realize I was some sort of smelly poop machine and send me back to the Dursleys.

Minutes later I sneaked back to the toilet to try and recover the smell with some armpit spray. Linx. To be exact. And I'm always exact because I'm brilliant.

When I opened the door I realized that it didn't smell at all. It must have been a trick of my mind, so after spraying some armpit spray, I left. The significance of that tale? None. It's not connected at all with anything.

How come in scary movies they don't just all carry guns on them? Sometimes I spread strawberry jam over my body and pretend to be a strawberry. Sound familiar?

No.

I checked the clock- I can't remember the exact time, or more, couldn't be bothered to turn the 24hour clock into the actual time. It was late. I peered out the window to see how dark it was. Not too dark- lighter than Snape's class room at Hogwarts, though that's not saying much.

What was with Snape anyway? What sort of name's 'Snape' anyway? The again, 'Voldermort'. At least that wasn't his real name. (Too many 'anyway's).

My belly rumbled a bit. I don't remember being hungry. Actually, I wasn't hungry at all. But my belly was. Selfish greedy thing. I should have it removed. I could have it replaced with a nuclear reactor.

But what if I had a melt down?

That was a story for another day. I managed to focus my thoughts and set off in search of food. I stumbled down the stairs in a panicked scramble for food like the animal I was. People put animals down too much. Comparing themselves to animals; humans are animals. Honestly.

The cupboard seriously didn't want to open. They screamed as I opened them and desperately tugged to keep themselves closed. Or maybe they were just a bit stiff.

I heard a lazy snoring come from somewhere nearby. I didn't quite know where. No room to my left and wasn't coming from the right nor in front or behind me. I give up on descriptive writing.

I spent a while searching, but to no avail. No food. God, I didn't ask for much. But there was seriously _no _food. Let's see: Some curry powder, some pasta, cottage cheese and sardines. I could paste them altogether…?

Finally; my last hope. I stared longingly up at the seemingly giraffe like fridge, my eyes gleaming in optimistic, naïve hope. It must have food- it must! Shouldn't the cottage cheese have been in the fridge? No. No the cottage cheese was just fine at the back of the cupboard beneath the sink; (which was full of washing up liquid.)

The fridge, however, looked down at me with pitying eyes. Oh how it mocked me. Even its shadow had this evil tinge to it- like a sort of evil… thing.

Upon opening the fridge I realized that there was no hope there and all thoughts on food could be abandoned. We had plenty earlier. It's just Remus came over, and I have my suspicions he was a closet pig.

I crept up the stairs; in my mind I had this idea I was some sort of ninja. I never really had that great a child hood. Hey, I deserved pity and children's toys- but oh no. I landed with Voldermort. I was going to tell Sirius I was just going to walk down the road and buy some bread or something.

Before I knocked harshly and relentlessly on the door to Sirius' room, I realized the snoring from earlier, (Oh yes, I do remember earlier, thank you- No we don't need a flash back,) was coming from Sirius' room. And I guessed, yes, gasp (the onomatopoeia), I guessed, that Sirius was asleep.

Why bother interrupting him when I would go out and buy whatever I wanted and be home before he even knew it? He'd probably thank me and not be as angry upon the discovery of the smell in the bathroom I made earlier. Yes. That was a brilliant idea.

Beep. Beep. God, it sounded like I was in some sort of dying patients hospital room. It was just the sound of barcodes being scanned at the checkout, but honestly, it had me fooled. Did I sound like an old person? Old people complain about things like that.

But then so did I. And I am spicy. Old people are stale, not spicy.

I'd only been gone a few minutes- but I had this weird nagging feeling that I was doing something I wasn't supposed to do. You know, go out after dark alone when the dark lord himself was after me. But I was right and Sirius was wrong. Not that Sirius said anything to be wrong. He was just wrong.

And I was right.

It was on the way home when anything happened. Rain peed on my face; the sky above me mocking me. Just because the clouds couldn't feel the cold it felt the need to rub its piss on me. Was it raining? That's what people generally call water falling from the sky.

So yes- yes it was raining. I'm sorry to not make sense. I'm constantly an incomprehensible mess. I think though; that fun from life is extracted when you're not dark and morbid and twisty and messed up inside. Though if you talk like you think then your life becomes even more messed up.

You probably don't follow me. Where was I?

My footsteps echoed with purpose; purpose being myself skipping towards Sirius' home before he realized I was out. I should really call it our home. Our home. There.

The precipitation seemed to clear up a bit when I was suddenly slammed against someone's wooden fence; the fence rattled and threatened to fall from its once sturdy erect position. Ha. Erect.

Then with a crack of conveniently timed thunder the rain started up again. Just my luck. That's an awful movie. Never watch it.

Someone had pushed me up against the fence, their face shadowed by the moon light from behind them. I assume it to be a boy since their grunt was a many grunt. That and I, Harry Potter, like to stereo-type criminals.

He had on a thick Jacket, a hat. Nothing really out of ordinary. And some trousers. Good thing he had them on. Despite how serious the situation was, it would have been a bit awkward if he had no trousers on. Why must I wonder off the subject so many times?

It was like I was born with a story telling curse- thou who shall tell a tale of words shall stray of topic. But a tale of pictures was something else entirely different. Don't I know anything?

Suddenly little things became big things and big things became little things- significant details lost in a sea of crap and like hell I'd sort through them all. Excuse my language. I don't speak like that. I'm a good boy.

Drip. Drip goes the bad onomatopoeia. The cool drip of the onomatopoeia made shivers run down my spine. I was unthinking, just feeling. I felt the splash, the splosh- the onomatopoeia. I heard the ripple- I knew I could hear the ripple.

The splish of the ripple.

Is 'splish' a new one?

It was cold- My breath was shaky, a shiver raked my body. Supposedly cold. I shut my eyes.

It was dark- My eyes couldn't see light through my eye lids- the couldn't see through open eyes.

It was scary- My heart beat too fast- my breath was that bit too fast.

It was all those things. Particularly the former. And the latter. And the one in between.

What I'm getting at is many words describe the experience; 'pleasant' wasn't one of them.

"What do you want?" My voice quivered after what seemed like forever. I could imagine how pathetic I must have looked. My voice didn't sound quite right. It didn't feel quite right.

Neither did the cockroach I ate.

Both went down with a crunch of regret. The man punched me in the face. Oh how I over exaggerate. I was back handed. Oh the perils of lies and exaggeration.

"Shut up." His accent was a heavy north London one, contrasting with my accent. My accent was brilliant because I _was _brilliant.

Was.

I felt myself shake. Like really shake. My eyes were wide like a fox, or a deer, or a pygmi crested whale, caught in head lights. Or was it a rabbit? My mind was full of too many processes to remember. The man's hands gripped my arms too hard; he had them at a slightly painful angle.

"Give me your wallet." He paused, weighing up stuff in his mind. Or what he had of a mind. I wished I had my wand- I'd blow his head off. That would do away with his 'mind. "Your phone and your shoes too."

Maybe not his whole head, maybe I'd knock him unconscious then dip him toe first into acid. Lasts longer that way. Shaky hands reached into my pocket- I then realized they were my own. Strange they felt foreign. I gave him my wallet and my phone and my iPod too. Yeah, I had an iPod. Remus gave both of them to me. I love muggle things.

I didn't mean to give him my iPod. It just came out and I was too scared not too. I toed of my shoes, the man grabbed a hand full of my hair and growled at me to hurry up. Once they were off he bent down and seizing them. I stood still, full of shock. Every muscle in my body cramped up.

The nice man he was punched me one round the face and then everywhere else he could hit on me and then took flight.

Reality came crashing down on me when I was left alone with something akin to deafening silence. A sob, a single, heart wrenching sob wracked my body and I slid to the ground, some blood dripped to the floor from my mouth. The sound of cars soon filled my ears again, the sound of traffic. Of people. Of people who wanted to hurt me.

People wanted to hurt me.

_People want to hurt me._

I took deep, shallow breaths, by glassed smashed and shards sticking into my palms. I hadn't realized I'd been pushing them against the ground until it was too late. Thoughts left my mind- I sat numb in the freezing weather next to some road in a seemingly deserted neighborhood. I knew it wasn't though.

I stumbled to my feet, tripping and pathetic-ing. You know you can pathetic places. I have this vague de ja vu. I heard footsteps. They rang through my ears. That's when the thoughts in my mind started back up.

I'd just been mugged.

That was a sobering thought. I'd just been mugged. Not that I was drunk or high or-

Off topic.

The footsteps sounded nearer, and with that I set off in a run, the shopping left behind. God, I'd look like a right douche if I brought the shopping. But details do not matter. I do not matter. I felt vunerable,

_And people want to hurt me?_


	2. Chapter 2

AN- Can't stop writing. I'll go into withdrawal. I know I said this will be two chapters long, well now it'll probably be 3. I say probably, it _will _be three chapters long. (No haven't reread any of this, so it WILL be full of mistakes. Like everything else I've ever written. Please review- I'll bake you a loaf of bread.)

Rated T for language and being mugged- yeah.

Thanks to:

Vegetable/ CuthbertJenkinsChikin for helping me write this. And changing American words to English words. (Despite me being totally British myself.) And helping write parts. YOU'RE AWESOME.

And to The-Girl-Who-Dreamed for reviewing. :D

And all my readers. (BTW- Kreacher's dead.)

* * *

><p>It seemed like forever before I got home, my sloppy run-steps (because footsteps sounds like I was walking, and I most certainly was not,) slowed me down quite a bit. I was pounding on the front door, my keys probably handed over to the evil monster who mugged me.<p>

I must admit- I didn't care about the lost stuff, I just felt scared. I felt vulnerable. My heart was pounding. I didn't care if I woke Sirius up- actually, that was my intention. I needed someone to let me in. You know, since we didn't have any house elves. Sirius had been put off them by Kreacher. He didn't want a new one once we lost Kreacher. And what a loss it was. Sorry- I was really out of it. My thoughts bounced in a sort of odd way. That jubled them up in a blender so none of them made sense.

Suddenly the door swung open, Sirius stood looking down at me, though to be truthful, it was only because he was older than me that he was taller than me and he stood on a step. I was blatantly going to be taller than him because I was brilliant. Not those thoughts were going through my head.

I raised my now alert head to look at him with wide, fearful eyes. Quite feeble and weak. I'm not ashamed to admit that I have no courage and I'm quite androgynous. I disclose the latter piece of information for reader's entertainment entirely.

"Where were you?" He snarled. That scared me. I held back a whimper. I was such a mess. I needed to pull myself together, man up. Oh what was I kidding? I was screwed. I was screwed the second Voldermort murdered my parents in cold blood. Though saying Voldemort screwed me could be taken the wrong way. In a sexually intended way.

"I-I…" I mumbled and stuttered and tripped over my words like someone running with their feet glued to the floor. Good I felt like that physically too. Unable to move, heavy and trapped. How stupid.

"Don't give me that!" Sirius shouted and raged. "Just shut up!" Wow, what did I do?

_His voice, his cold voice speaking: "Shut up."_

My heart raced faster than ever, my breathing too quick. For a moment, it wasn't Sirius stood infront of me, but the person, the monster, who killed me. "No, No. Just- just…" Lost with words, I said the first thing that came to mind, "Shut up. Leave me alone you sick monster!" I tried to ward off the attacker. Who wasn't actually there. Sirius must have got the wrong end of the stick. The end with the poop on.

Suddenly a sting enveloped my face. What was that? It hit me. He slapped me. Then I remembered quite how much Sirius was standing there, and quite how little my attacker wasn't standing there. If you follow me.

_The nice man he was, slapped me round the face._

Everything that happened reminded me of the wounds that were still so raw. I was over reacting- I was being a girl. We both stood there in silence- my breathing loud. Sirius' breathing loud. I think we were both shocked.

My eyes were too blurred to see much before, but when they filled with tears… I DON'T WANT TO DIE.

…Where did that come from?

Maybe I did want to die… No. Bad Harry.

"Harry?" It didn't sound right. It sounded almost worried. It was Remus' voice? I'd gone. I'd lost it. Remus had gone home. This was stupid. Trying. "Harry! What did he do to you?" Remus exclaimed. His loud voice hurt. Hurt?

What did it hurt? It hurt. It rang through my ears, it burnt, it echoed in my ears forever. I hoped that everyone would just leave me alone and let me go and lick my wounds in some dark corner. Solitude. How nice and poetical of me.

But sometimes hoping wasn't enough. I tried to wipe those thoughts clean from my head, maybe with a sharp knife skinning the surface of my brain where bad thoughts lingered.

Does that bother me? No. Knifes are always skimming over my brain. Then why does it bother you? I was cracking up. Not in a laughing way or a drug taking sort of way- but a way where you're broken.

Not broken, just cracked.

Metaphorically of course.

I'm sorry. I must be annoying you. I'm annoying me.

"What are you talking about?" Sirius snapped, now seemingly at Remus. Though he was obviously trying to hide the snap in his snapping voice. Is that possible? "All I did was slap him for being an idiot. I can't believe he would just go out like that without telling me." He diverted his attention to me, I cowered under his gaze, though I couldn't properly see his eyes without my glasses.

I wanted to go inside. Being stood on the door step being shouted at and slapped was seriously messed up. I should be made a hot chocolate and Sirius should clean my wounds and cry about the unjust circumstances; the circumstances being the boy who was brilliant being mugged.

I turned my attention to the floor. I felt something slip down my cheek. Now I'm not going to pretend that I had _no _idea what it was- I was just trying to deny what it was. You probably have a good idea. Yes, yes it was a tear. Oh the many perils. I mean, it was okay when I was by myself, but here in front of Sirius and Remus?

The oh so unfortunate, immense, over the top incredible pain. The burn!1one!eleventy!

I didn't want to be thought of as weak. They put their trust in me to kill the dark lord. How can I do that when I can't even go out to the shop?

They'd probably hate me. I say probably lightly. They'd hate me.

I'd hate me at least. Sirius hated me anyway. He slapped me. He slapped me.

_He'd slapped me._

Oh my god- he hated me. Excuse my language, but if there was shit no one should ever mess with, that's me. And he went there.

I wanted to scream at him that he couldn't just slap me. He couldn't do that. I was Harry freaking Potter and I'd just been mugged and he'd- just, oh god. I want a pet gold fish.

I always stray off topic. Why do I do that?

What would the world be like without the invention of rhetorical questions? I'd still be living in the back of some van somewhere, eating out of dust bins and spitting at rich people.

Or I could become a baker in France. Couldn't I? No. Because there would be no rhetorical questions.

Maybe I shouldn't answer my own questions?

"Harry?" Sirius' voice had lightened, but was now laced with something akin to worry. But he'd hate me if he found out the truth. I flinched back at the sound of his voice; it sounded a lot like the dick who mugged me before. Except without the accent.

"Why did you slap him?" Remus hissed. I should imagine he was angry at Sirius- you know, because he hissed. That would generally give it away. Sorry to ruin the moment. "Take one look at him! Did you do that?" His voice was accusing, disgusted.

Disgusted at me? No. I wasn't that stupid. I had a scar on my forehead.

"I-I didn't do that!" Sirius took a step backwards. "I just slapped him… I didn't…" I decided if Sirius wanted to distance is then I'd step backwards, off the step too. Maybe I shouldn't have come home. I could have stayed where I was. I could have been found by someone. Someone who would either finish me off or help me.

Secretly I wished the former. But no one could find that out.

"Get out my way." Remus' blur (Because I didn't see people, I saw blurs) pushed past Sirius' blur. Violently. I flinched and began to raise my arms to defend myself. I was- I don't know what I was. I was something.

And suddenly I didn't feel like the untouchable, mighty Harry Potter. The brilliant, never failing, perfect boy who lived. I felt like shit. Maybe I could change my name to that? The boy who changed his name to shit.

I'd sleep on it.

"Harry?" When did Remus get right in front of me? I could make out his brow was creased into a concentrating, or worried thrown. I have brilliant eye sight really.

Sirius kept shooting me worried glances. Maybe I should send him worried glances to worry Sirius like he was worrying me.

Was I turning green? I would have if I'd followed my original story plan. Ah natural born story teller am I.

"R-Remus?" Curse my weak voice. I'll shoot it. Or something that wouldn't kill me. I'd have to work on my stammer. I didn't normally stutter- not even when the mighty Volde-doh (that name made him seem less scary, and in fights I had to imagine him naked or I'd wet my pants) was stood in front of me, about to take my life.

Why was I so messed up? I had _only _been mugged. Only.

Remus grabbed my shoulder and led me inside. I flinched when he grabbed me, I should imagine he gave me this sort of sympathetic look. An awkward silence broke out. I wanted to kill whoever invented awkward silences.

The problem with them is that awkward turtle didn't work if the awkward silence was really awkward. Only if the silence was a comfortable one with close friends. And my friends and I didn't awkward turtle. We were wizards. We awkward wizard.

I tripped on the step but managed to just about regain my footing. Though I wasn't sturdy on them before. The floor was moving. It was. I know it was. It wasn't me. The floor was moving and I was going to fall over. My head was spinning. But it wasn't my head spinning. It was my body. My head was staying perfectly still.

I must have zoned out at some point, because everything had gone very dark and Remus and Sirius were very far away. Why were they so far away? Didn't they love me? Of course they didn't. It was my fault my parents were dead. I mean, because everything I do results in people dying.

So okay, I know I don't control the dark lord, but I have some part in it. You know, in controlling him.

You should always start sentences with onomatopoeias.

Bang (!) went the onomatopoeia. (Sound words).

That was just me falling over. You know, metaphorically. Though, I'd tripped and killed myself metaphorically, like a raging tiger who ran into a tree, simile-orically.

I should have my own dictionary. The dictionary of made up words that were made up for convenience written by the boy who changed his name to shit.

Though, in that metaphorical falling time (the falling metaphor for falling) I was falling.

Physically this time. I hope you can follow me. Though not literally, you know, you'd hurt your face and that would be very poor. Just like me. The boy who changed his name to shit. Make a donation now.

So I tripped, I stumbled, I fell. Flat on my face. I remember time pausing, like the pause button on a stop watch. That button pauses things. Though that would be strange, because if time paused then I would not be able to think. That would be most untriumphant.

Though if time paused, I would not be moving, the total stopping distance would be 0. 0m because speed would be 0m/s , the time would be 0 s, the braking distance would be 0 m and the thinking distance would be 0m/s, due to the fact that I am not thinking because time has been paused. Not that any of this is relevant, as time pausing was just a metaphor to begin with. Time=distance over speed. Speed the drug.

I deviate from my point. Thank you. When time started again, not that it started again, not that it ever paused, though my thoughts weren't coherent, I scrambled to the nearest wall. It was a black wall because it was the blacks family house, which happened to have been moved to a new road just down from a co-op. Have you noticed that everything to do with the Black family seems to be black?

Black hair, black dog.

The atmosphere was tense and crowded with unspoken words. They felt like mosquitos.

"Harry?" I didn't reply, silence, twisted, cruel silence, enveloped the room like some sort of envelope. You know, to send off. Similar spellings.

The silence only helped to illuminate my stupidity. I mean, I'd fallen over, I'd made no effort to get back up, and I'd scooted into the corner like some sort of nut job. Who did that? It was a pathetic, feeble and pitiful show of a freak. Yes. I'm a freak.

If I wasn't a freak then I wouldn't have that scar on my forehead.

I heard a whimper, a whine like a dying animal, or a ungrateful mutt. I realized in horror that the sound was actually a mixture of me and Sirius whining like the animals we really were. Though unlike Sirius, I wasn't really an animal. I was a human. In inexcusable wild beast. Not like Sirius. Sirius was brilliant, and I just so wasn't.

Sorry about the momentary show of feelings. I wanted pity.

I don't want pity.

So the animal whine was in fact, me. It was deceiving. I'd have to do the old 'avada cadavra' trick, and kill it. Somehow though, at the time of course, I was too lost to care. I was lost in my head somehow. I was back on the street. I was. I know I was.

It was cold.

I'd always had this undertone of madness. This sort of mental unbalance. Absurd and crazy and whatever other words that can be used. The delirium, (and oh yes, I, Harry Potter, am quite proud of that word,) had always been etched into me. I should fill it with polyfiller. But what sort of pollyfiller can fill gaps of madness? None. None I tell you- none.

No- I needed instead, glue. A mixture of PVA and water so I could papier-mâché my brain. That would remove all signs of madness. Either that or send me 6ft under.

Or I could use a balloon. Pretend that the balloon was me. Pretend to be someone else. In that case, pretend to be a balloon.

How tacky.

I saw this sort of alarmed blur. I think it was Remus. Now how do you tell if a blur is alarmed? Logistics my dead friend. Logistics.

Or maybe just this sort of air that the blur emits.

But suddenly the alarmed blur warped into this black blur, and it moved closer to me. The face, the blur of a face, was the same blur of a face from earlier. It was the man. Oh god it was the man. He was going to steal my wallet again. I reached into my pocket. Nothing was there. What would I do? He'd probably knife me if I gave him nothing.

All this violence.

Back in my day we didn't have violence.

"Harry?" That wasn't his voice. Fuck. Now I'm not one for swearing, and I don't out loud. I was just so mentally messed up. You know, inside my mind. My eyes were tightly screwed shut. I didn't want to open them, I was too scared as to what I might see.

I might open my eyes to see he'd already stabbed me in the belly and was holding my intestines in his hand. I didn't want to see that.

I am scared seeing it in films, but to see it coming out myself would make me sick everywhere. I'd probably die choking on sick before anything else.

But when a hand touched my shoulder I flung open my eyes and instantly batted the hand away. Oh my merlin. I say batted, I mean I hit it away quite violently, in a sort of panicked flurry of flaps.

Like a penguin.

A panicked penguin. Because if it was just a penguin it would have simply have been a flurry of flaps, not a panicked flurry of flaps.

"Harry?" He whispered. He obviously has some sort of emotion going through his mind, but just because I'm Brilliant-Harry-Bloody-Potter doesn't mean I can read people like that.

Like most people seem to think I can. I don't 'hath telekenisis' like Volde-doh.

"Remus?" So it wasn't the evil mugging dude who once stood so tall above me. Now it was simply a werewolf and convicted murderer who had escape prison standing over me. You wouldn't have expected for me to find that a relief.

You know, since most people are more scared of were wolves then some homeless mugger after my shoes.

But I wasn't.

I won't come up with an analogy, which would probably involve some sort of animal, because that would be a total waste of time.

"I'm sorry." I whispered before some sort of silence crashed over us. Saying it washed over us implies calm water. This water, of sorts, was not calm. It was sort of in-between. Like the Mediterranean on a windy summer day.

I mean, the water wasn't raging, because I'd probably have been washed away if it was too raging. Though, and excuse the out of character tackiness, I was out of my depth, and I think Remus and Sirius were too.

I tried to stand up, but a crash of water pushed me over. Or threw me back like I'd been harpooned. Like some sort of large fish.

I stray, oh how I stray, from the point. What point? The point.

I heard water drip faintly in the back ground, I heard the faint hum of breathing from Sirius and Remus. (I held my own breath, too scared to hear it. The suffocating tension crushed my chest too much to breathe). I heard the faint patter of fingers, or water, against the windows, the doors. The windows on the doors.

I went into too much detail. I sensed to much detail, I saw too much, albeit blurs of shaded colours lit only by the moon light. I smelt too much, the smell of the dirt between the floor boards, the smell of blood on my clothes. The distinct lack of deodorant in all our armpits.

I heard too much- but I've already been there. I felt too much. I needed a pee.

And just when I thought I'd managed to supress it.

I was glad when Remus didn't ask why despite not knowing why. I'd have had to have killed him if he asked why. God, why do people do that? Why make it harder than it already was? I sucked at apologies. Forget all forgiving, I may be some sort of god like figure for the wizarding world, the light at the end of the tunnel (or Volde-doh's reign,) but I certainly was no saint.

Or sinner, because I was brilliant. Or, at least until Volde-doh killed my parents. Then I blamed myself the second I found out, though not that long before hand, and- This made no sense.

My thoughts had been pasteurized in some sort of milk pasteurizing machine.

You know, when they heat it up. Warm milk anyone?

I don't know how it happened, but Remus and Sirius were both geared next to me, studying me as I stood up. I tried to knife Sirius away, but I had no knife.

I was sort of temporarily blinded by some sort of insanity, all my glasses had been lost. The ones that help me see, the ones that help me see rationality, compromise and, though this sounds stupid, forgiveness.

How boring has this gotten?

They helped me through to sit in a chair, both exchanging looks of accusation. 'You did this!' They both 'eye-said'. I don't know how Remus could pin the blame on Remus. We sat there for what seemed like forever, the uncomfortable silence and tense atmosphere slowly morphing into something similar to comfort.

It wasn't until we were all comfortable that Remus asked, (with a guilty looking Sirius in the back ground,)

"So, care to tell us what happened?"

Don't get me wrong, I'm Harry Potter. I don't swear, that would be bogus. But, Fuck.

But I couldn't tell Remus that me, the boy who changed his name to Shit, was mugged.

"You were mugged, weren't you!" Sirius' voice sounded accusing. And with that, the world stopped around me. Even the glass shattering and the shards piercing my skin didn't snap me out of my panic state.

What could one say to that? I could not lie. Not to Remus and Sirius. Well, maybe Sirius. But only because he fucking slapped me.

Glass lay shattered around us. I didn't remember that happening. I mean, yeah, a bit of glass would have been fun, but every glass lay unexplainably broken at our feet, on the table, in our hair and clothing. Not many shards were embedded in our skin as such,

More lightly stuck.

We all sat there in silence once again. I shook, like some sort of constipated thing, my wide eyes staring at Sirius and Remus- neither knew how to react. Truth be told, nor did I. That's why we sat there in silence. Hence the 'we all sat there in silence once again'.

I felt a tear run down my face and a heart wrenching sob escaped my mouth, except it was silent. Because I didn't deserve to make a noise, I would interrupt the flow of the silence, the delicate atmosphere. So instead it came out as more of a gasp with tears.

Then I realized it wasn't a sob at all.


	3. Chapter 3

AN- FINAL CHAPTER- WHOOP! I am really sorry(-ish) I haven't updated this sooner. I'd have done this yesterday, but 2011 hated me. All 8760 hours of 2011, bar one, was a disaster. The very last hour of the year was a drunken blur beneath a blanket. That was good~()

Thanks again to The-Girl-Who lived for reviewing.

Runey9- Thanks. I'll re-read this chapter- and somewhat try and keep Harry in character. I'll try not to babble on and digress, but I'm rubbish at trying things. Lol. Thanks for reviewing too.

Thanks also to CuthbertJenkinsChikin for helping write this thing. And for beta-ing? Whatever the word is.

Rated T for whatever it was rated T for last chapter. I just remembered I forgot the disclaimer in the first two chapters. I don't own Harry Potter. Or anything really. That's quite depressing when you think about it.

Also, do you think I should put AN's at the end of the chapter or keep it at the beginning?

CHAPTER 3

How do you stop copper from oxidizing?

I sat there in what I would describe as a deafening silence, in a puddle of sweat and blood and tears. The sweat and blood managed to reach the ground before they were soaked into my clothes.

I must have, at some point, whilst pondering something completely irrelevant, from my completely catatonic state, became more catatonic. But still shaking. The next thing I knew, there was a crunch of glass beneath foot and a worried looking Remus face close to mine.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't uncomfortable. Triple negative. I was hit by this wave of coldness, my shaking only became more violent. Why was I cold? Then the glass on the floor really hit home, I'd really, yes really, smashed the windows?

Accidental magic? Like when I made the glass disappear at the zoo a few years ago? This time I'd made it smash. I'd say it was a result of the heavy atmosphere and go on to talk about how the pressure had done it- but that would just be sad.

I looked up again to see Sirius stood far away from me, a guilty looking expression on his face, with a hint of fear and worry. His hair seemed to almost ripple in the breeze. The well-known indoor breeze that flows through the house.

I heard voices, but thought nothing of them. They were Remus' and Sirius'. Why would I want to listen to them? But then I remember I was sat on the floor seemingly going through some sort of emotional death; a long drawn out one. They were talking about me?

"…did this?"

"No!" Sirius' indignant voice rang through the air, piercing it. The delicate atmosphere then didn't seem so delicate when the dying cat screech didn't so much as dent it. Well, it pierced the air, but not the atmosphere.

"Then who did?" Remus turned to look at Sirius, in what I should imagine was the eye. Remus sighed, a heavy, burdened sigh, if such a thing was possible, and turned to face me, his eyes scrutinizing over every detail kindly dented into my face by strangers and not-strangers alike.

"I don't know." Sirius whispered in a sort of defeated, despondent kind of way. "What do we do?" He asked, anxiety coursing through his voice- and wrinkled forehead. That will teach him to frown.

A moment on the brow- a life time on the forehead. I suggest taping them up. With shiny, bold, outgoing, grey duct tape.

"I'll take him upstairs." Remus said like I wasn't even in the room. Well I was! In fact, I was in the room so much so that I managed to age everyone ten years and smash every glass object in a twenty meter radius.

Sirius looked down at his feet and said he'd clean up. It was hardly cleaning up, one spell and the glass would be fixed! Strangely, I said nothing.

Remus' pitying face turned to stare me in the eyes. My sort of half glazed over eyes. I know they were because I was the one looking out through them.

"Harry?" He asked softly. He stood up and towered over me. I hate to admit this, but I found that somewhat threatening and was tempted hit him and make a run for it. But then where would that get me? And he wasn't really threatening me. Besides, who hits wizards?

Remus offered out a hand- I flinched. You know, not voluntarily- just sort of, involuntarily.

Remus appeared to flinch when I flinched. Like he didn't like me flinching? Ha. I like flinching. "Do you want some help up?" He half whispered. What, like his voice would scare me if he spoke too loud? Actually, it probably would. I'd have batted his hand away but that would have been rude.

That and I probably couldn't stand up by myself- I was shaking and I was made of jelly. Give me a break. I could probably drain through some cracks though, if I was sat on a drain or something. So I was more like angel delight.

I barely held my shape. So I was angel delight full of corn flour, because when Remus held my hand he didn't pass straight through me.

I wobbled on my feet. Why was I so pathetic? How long had we been stood in the hall way near the front door? I was freezing and shards of glass dug into my bare feet.

I began to walk shakily, or vibrate, towards the stairs. Like when your phone is on vibrate, and it moves of its own accord, often off of the table or flat surface it is perched on.

I heard Sirius slam the front door shut. But it didn't go through my mind that it was the door shutting, I had this endless sort of string of possibilities bounce through my scarred head. Stupid scar. If I didn't have that scar then people wouldn't look at it and stroke it. Or at least, I wouldn't stroke it.

I darted off to my room, because, believe it or not, there was nothing wrong with my legs. I was just scared and seemed that the fact I was vibrating helped lift me up the stairs and too my room. My veins were pumping with adrenaline. The bang was probably someone coming to hurt me. Someone I didn't like. Malfoy. Or the person who mugged me.

How would I cope at Hogwarts? Dumbledore would probably tell me to get lost. But in a more Dumbledorish way. " Donkeys live for a long time." He'd say, and at that point, I'd pack my stuff and leave.

I jumped onto my bed and crawled up into a sort of ball like object. Perfect to kick. Just moments later there was a knock on the door, a panicked knock. I whimpered- curse my whimper. The man had found me because of my whimper. My weakness.

Oh the pain.

"Harry?" The voice was this sort of Remus type uncertain pitying creak. His voice was a creak. Then I remembered it was Remus. Not Draco or Bellatrix or Voldemort or the person who mugged me or Wormtail, or Snape. Stupid Snape.

I peeked out from my ball to see Remus closer than I thought he was. I jumped then relaxed. Or tried to relax. Every time I relaxed one part of my body, another part began to shake or tense up.

"Remus?" I began to uncurl, like the fish you get in Christmas crackers. They were a bit too thin and feeble and easily damaged. They also curled and uncurled. Oh how I curse the similarities.

"Harry, what happened?" He creaked as he sat on the side of my bed like some sort of wise toad. I should really stop with the whole simile thing.

I was going to tell him when my eyes glazed over and I threw myself into the hug he wasn't offering. Silence rang through both of our ears. The sound of Sirius down stairs muttering a few spells to clear up the glass I so stupidly broke. Maybe it wasn't accidental magic. Maybe it was voodoo.

I didn't realize it until it was too late, but a sob racked my body. Remus clung to me in a comforting way, and I clung to him in a sort of frantic, panicked way. I shut my eyes tightly and tried to stop crying. My body jerked with silent sobs, pathetic, silent sobs, even.

Everything from around us just seemed to disappear.

"I'm sorry…" I whimpered. More tears seemed to leak from my eyes, though I wouldn't open them- I couldn't open them, through fear that if I did I'd be back there. There with him.

I know nothing happened. You know? Yeah. We all get mugged don't we? But something similar to doubt clouded my mind. I couldn't imagine Voldemort or Dumbledore getting mugged.

I want to be more like Dumbledore and Voldemort.

I felt weak and defenceless. I was sorry. I was very sorry. Sorry for being weak, sorry for going out without telling anyone, sorry. I was sorry for going out.

I was sorry for being born. If I hadn't been born then maybe my parents would still be alive?

It was my fault and I was sorry.

"Please tell me what happened, Harry." Remus begged. He pleaded. In some ways I wanted to tell him so he wouldn't be disappointed that I was too weak to tell him, but if I told him he would be disappointed that I was weak enough to get mugged.

I should have hit him and ran when I had the chance. Or had a full on fight. Like with nails and teeth and dirty play.

"I think me and you both know." My rabid and frothed mouth gurgled. And I stuttered occasionally and was very, very quiet.

Remus shut his eyes and then reopened them, as if that would 'refresh' the situation.

I pulled back from Remus and waited for him to punch my face in, or slap me, like the man who mugged me and Sirius. Maybe Remus could finish it? I mean, I trusted Sirius. So why would Remus not slap me too?

His hand raised in the air.

And time stood still. I think I flinched, I can't tell. I can't remember. That's a lie. I flinched. The hand began to move towards me, the threatening hand that was about to slap me.

I think. I thought. Past tense- it happened in the past- or so I had to tell myself. I thought time was moving in slow motion, like in films. Or like time always seemed to move when something bad was happening. To prolong the many morbid thoughts and drag out the torture.

The hand landed softly on my cheek, maybe I hadn't felt it right. Without realizing I had shut them, I opened my eyes, they were still screwed up but they were open. I suppose that counts for something, even if I didn't have my glasses.

It seemed to rub somewhat at my cheek for a sour moment before pulling away. My body was tensed up and my heart pounding. It soon settled.

I looked at Remus examining his fingers? Did he feel dirty for touching me? Disgusted? No. I may have lost it but not that much. I still knew Remus didn't feel dirty for touching me. Maybe disgusted at me, but it's childish to sneer at your fingers if you've touched someone you didn't like.

What next? Passing the 'Harry germs' on and then crossing his fingers and screaming 'cross keys!'

I think not. And because of this I realize Remus was not in fact frowning at his fingers. Even through my blurry eye sight.

"Your face is cut." Remus wiped his fingers on his trousers, much like how Sirius wiped his fingers on his trousers when he ate and got gravy or ketchup or something runny on his fingers. Did that mean I was some nasty tasting liquid to Remus? Except gravy and ketchup taste nice.

An awkward silence seemed to fall upon the room. It seemed to have a habit for doing that. This time my voice didn't feel as blocked up and I managed to speak.

"Yeah." I wanted to say something. To stop Remus' blur looking so worried. Why did he look so worried? I'd been through worse. I mean, I had a scar on my forehead from where the dark lord tried to kill me. I should, I really should, be dead. Seriously dead. Quite a long time dead too.

"Sorry." I croaked, my voice raw, not that I had done any screaming, my voice just simply hurt.

"Don't be." I didn't choose to be sorry! I don't choose anything. It's so annoying. "Wait there." He ordered me simply. He stood to leave when I heard Sirius saunter past the room, pompous and discreet, two things no mere mortal can be at the same time. Though he walked in leisure, I'm sure something in those footsteps held some sort of guilt or worry. But I only think that looking back.

At the time I just thought he didn't care. Why would he care? I wouldn't care if I were Sirius. That would make a good game: 'If I Were Sirius'.

I looked at Remus who had finally stood, when I interrupted his standing-flow.

"Please don't lea-" I stopped. I regretted. "N-Never mind." Where was my Gryffindor courage? My manly strength? My balls?

Remus seemed to understand what I initially said and sat back down. "Okay, Harry."

Moments later the door opened carefully, with barely a creak, which was the norm in that old, decaying house. Though it probably wasn't decaying, I just liked to think it was.

I saw a head of black hair then Sirius' guilty looking face. His old gnarled face full of indiscreet self-condemnation. Did I just say his face was gnarled? My bad. And he dropped the discreet-itude.

"I'm so sorry Harry." He walked towards me, Remus stood up and was quickly replaced with Sirius. I barely noticed Remus edge towards the door way, his face peer around the corner, and then he was gone.

"It was all my fault if I had been awake I could have walked you there, or told you not to go-"

"No." I interrupted him, my voice almost calm. Note the usage of the word 'almost'. His voice came to an abrupt halt as he stared at me. No pressure on me then. "It was not your fault." I added emphasis to the 'fault'.

"I shouldn't have slapped you." He said. I wanted to cry- you know, everywhere you turned was full of some sort of gripping emotion, and I had never been in a particularly spur of the moment crying situation. I mean, most of the time things build up and so there is never a moment when it all hits you.

But now it was. I managed to hold it together. I tried to think of something strong to say. I couldn't think. I couldn't think. Too many delusional thought swam through my head.

"No. No you shouldn't." I hadn't really felt angry before, but at that moment I did. "But you didn't know." I more reasoned with myself. Who was I to say he was all in the wrong? Surely that would make me all in the wrong? It's too much to think about. Don't overthink things.

You end up with phrases like 'the boy who changed his name to- I'll end it there.

I'd have continued to comfort Sirius but my voice stopped working, it jammed up. I simply stared at him and hoped it would do. I mean, I'm brilliant. Everything I do works.

Sirius tried to ask me what I remembered about the person who did it, and to be honest, other than the mask of black and the accent, there was nothing. Maybe the odd detail that wouldn't help. Odd length nails. But that's more of my odd memory remembering odd details. I blame Voldemort.

If it weren't for him I could have been a surgeon or a lawyer or another high ranked job- like a wizard. Think of how many muggles think of that as a well-paying profession. Instead I receive odd, beckoning calls. 'Harry Potter to the wood department, that's Harry to the wood department.' From the lesser extremities of my mind.

I told him I dropped the shopping and that I was very sorry, and I was embarrassed because that's the sort of thing old people do, but at that point Remus came in with his wand and what looked like wet toilet roll.

As if sensing my question he quickly replied that he needed the toilet roll to clean out the cuts before he healed them. He didn't want to seal the infection in there.

"That's hardly cleaning it." Sirius sounded kind of angry in a worried way. Like some sort of teacher when someone's dangling them over a cliff or a bridge onto the M1. I say teacher because Professors at Hogwarts were brilliant. I'd never hypothetically dangle them over bridges.

Except Snape. He could go over.

Remus sat on the edge of the bed when Sirius spoke again. "Maybe I should walk to the shop and buy something that will actually do?" I stared at him with wide eyes that told him not to go. Realization seemed to dawn on him. "Or not." He said quickly before looking down at his lap. He was by that point sat on the bed. "Sorry."

He began to smear the blood around my face using some soggy toilet roll, cringing when he realized all he did was smear it. And get bits of toilet roll stuck in my cuts. He seemed to be rather confused. He frowned and looked at Sirius.

It wasn't long before Remus had disintegrated flakes of toilet roll on my cheek and healed some of them into my skin with magic. I sceptically began to wonder if he really healed his own wounds each month.

Why weren't there bits of wet toilet roll stuck beneath his skin?

"Thank you." I said to Remus, who was still admiring his handy work. Sirius stared at it slightly more critically.

"No problem." He smiled before leaving with the remnants of the toilet roll. All 42% He hadn't embedded into my cheek. I had been so proud of one thing, and that was my acne-free face and clear complexion.

"Sirius?" My voice faltered.

"Yeah?"

"Sorry for breaking all of the glass."

"I'm sorry for eating all of the food."

Happy epilogue: (lovingly slaved over by my friend (CuthbertJenkinsChikin) - or written by her, if you will):

I was tired and ready for bed, not wearing pyjamas, of course. Just a pair of old boxers that I had had since I lived with the Dursleys. They were white with red hearts on. Best Christmas present I ever got from them.

I glanced to the crack between the carpet and the skirting board. Why were they there? You would expect that the Blacks would not settle for such shoddy workmanship. Amongst the crumbs, dust and dog hair (, I don't know how the dog hair got there, I have always assumed that Sirius spends the greater amount of his time as a human ), was an old wotsit. Probably a few years old by the looks of it. Slightly limp, with a mildly greenish hue, it looked at me. That is really a bumcrumplingly big crack, now I come to think about it. I wasn't taking notice at the time, being tired. Can't have been thinking rationally. Which is probably why I ate the wotsit.

Cliff-hanger.

AN- I'd say 'wow' because lots of people do, but it's not really one of those moments. You know, I'm not entirely happy with this story(sorry about my ending). Meh. It was just rebound writing. Yeah.

You know, rebound writing?

Special thanks to everyone for reading, reviewing and favouriting (Which so happens to not be a word) or whatever else you can do that warrants a thanks.

And thanks to CuthbertJenkinsChikin- if that is your real name- for helping me write this. And writing the end of this, blah blah blah,

Good bye.

I thought I'd try out writing the AN at the bottom. But I had to write one at the top because I like writing them.

(Who likes my word? You know, Bumcrumpling.)


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